


underfoot

by spideywhiteys



Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [20]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, He deserves EVERYTHING, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Shippuden, Sort of a character study, asuma is also not really mentioned but, asuma is still alive, chouji is too kind for this world, ino is worried but bad at expressing it, ino's thoughts on chouji's kindness, shikamaru isn't here but he's still in their thoughts bc that's just who they are as a team, shinobi life is terrible, team asuma are true ride or dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideywhiteys/pseuds/spideywhiteys
Summary: Ino is not blind. Chouji's heart is too big to miss, and that's too large a target in the world they make their home in. Shinobi are not creatures meant for fragility, but he is a butterfly with paper wings.
Relationships: Akimichi Chouji & Yamanaka Ino
Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086938
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	underfoot

**Author's Note:**

> Day 20: Daemon AU / Ino + Chouji

It’s funny. Ino has always prided herself in her looks and her confidence. She knows who she is and what she can do, the opinions of others doesn’t matter, even if positive ones feel good. When she turned 13, her daemon settled in the form of a boar by the name of Makoto, and Ino never once felt discomfort or regret. 

The thought “ _ Why couldn’t you be anything else?”  _ never crossed her mind. It was only,  _ “Of course it’s this way.” _

Because Ino is tough and strong, filled with tenacity. She is a flower but she is not delicate, she does not wither but rather stands firm, crafting her own sun to flourish under when one is not provided for her.

Ino does not look to others to define herself. Their words slide off her like droplets, and they falter and fade when faced with her unyielding personality. 

Ino’s soul is the shape of a boar, with huge tusks and a hulking body. He is not particularly pretty, but Ino is pretty enough for the both of them.

“You keep letting them pick on you!”

Chouji huddles in the shadow of a building, summer hours bringing muggy air that has his thick hair frizzing and curling at the ends. He’s growing it out, and she’s fully supportive of such an act, but he really needs to learn how to take care of it better. Those split ends are driving her crazy. She has half a mind to drag him on a spa day — though, perhaps that  _ is _ a good idea, because he certainly needs to relax and feel nice. 

He looks at her with soft, dark eyes, not dark like the night in Sasuke’s, not dark like the brimstone and amber in Shikamaru’s, but dark like melting chocolate chips in oven-fresh cookies. He is soft in the face and soft in the heart, so bruisable and kind in a profession that does not care for such traits. Chouji’s hands are sticky with residue from bits of candy, an empty wrapper peeking out of his pants pocket. 

His butterfly daemon, Tama, shakes iridescent wings and shatters bouncing, sun-lit rainbows across his hair, settled in the unruly split-ends. Chouji curls and uncurls his fingers and continues to hide in the shadow because Shikamaru isn’t here right now. It’s just them, and Chouji still remains reluctant to step out into the light.

Ino is no Naruto, but she can burn like the sun if she so wishes. It makes him squint and shrink when he should be standing firm and stretching his wings. She wants him to soar. Wants him to burst from the cocoon he’s wrapped himself in for far too long.

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

But Ino is furious because she must be furious for all of them, so she lets her anger out knowing they never will. Both of them; her lazy friend, her too kind friend. “You need to show them who’s boss! You gotta tell them off, even if you don’t use your fists! Use your words, Chouji!”

Chouji only chuckles in that too soft way of his, scratching a cheek and making promises that are only placations. 

“You’re a shinobi,” she asserts, hands on her hips. “A shinobi of the leaf. You can’t let your own people walk all over you.”

_ Butterflies are so fragile, _ she doesn’t say. So easy to trample underfoot. He is a big, robust, growing boy and yet he’s so  _ breakable. _ So easy to crush under a cruel word or an oncoming fist. He doesn’t want to fight and for the life of her, she doesn’t know how he’s going to make it out in this kind of world if something doesn’t change.

If  _ he _ doesn’t change. 

And maybe that’s what scares her the most. They’re still kids, even if they don’t want to say it, even if they’d rather grow too big too fast and leave childhood daydreams behind, a childhood they’d never really had because Konoha sliced those foolish, careless bits from their flesh until bloody fighters were left.

Chouji is years of her memories, years of her life. His kindness kills him. He was never meant to be a shinobi, but a shinobi he must be because he is a clan heir. An Akimichi. A child of a war hero who hosts the same kind grin but a steel spine where Chouji’s is pliable like mochi.

_ I’m scared for you, _ she doesn’t say, even though she is. Ino is a lot of things but to this day she’s still unsure of how to say the words she really needs. It’ll come with age, she knows. But age is a hard thing to come by as a shinobi.

“It’s fine, Ino. It doesn’t really bother me. Honest.”

And he would shatter the world for her and his friends but is so reluctant to raise his fists for himself. It falls on her and Shikamaru to do it for him, but that holds them down. Covering his back when he hesitates, when he’s reluctant to follow through, when he makes a mistake and hits too softly. Too slowly. Too worried about leaving lasting damage when really he should be worried about the damage  _ he _ will sustain if he doesn’t fight like his life is on the line because it  _ is. _ On the line. Always. 

They are shinobi.

“It bothers me,” she says, and he looks at her like she’s never said an honest word in her life before now. “It bothers  _ me.” _

“Oh.” Is all he can reply with, Tama’s wings shivering, antenna dipping. 

It bothers Shikamaru too, but that boy will never say it outloud. He’ll say it in other ways. Sly ways. The kind where your enemies and adversaries pay for it without realizing  _ how  _ they ended up paying for it. Shikamaru makes plans to hurt people, and Ino just uses her words and fists. Chouji hurts himself trying not to hurt.

It makes Ino want to scream. 

They are 15. Only 15 and Chouji carries enough kindness in his body to house the nations. 

Makoto stamps the ground, a reflection of her annoyance and the buried terror she won’t let her face admit. He lowers his massive tusks and glares at Chouji, to which the boy can only smile sheepishly. 

Chouji should never have become a shinobi, but if he hadn’t, then maybe Ino wouldn’t have him the way she does now. It would be her and Shikamaru and  _ someone else _ and that is unimaginable. So she’s selfish and she can’t bring herself to care. She’s selfish because she wants him to fight. Wants him to live to be as old as their fathers, so they’ll still be Team Asuma in ten, twenty, thirty years and their kids will be a team, too. 

“It bothers me.” She repeats.

He says, “I know.”

And he understands that her words are more than about his bullying. He always has.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow / Support me on [Tumblr](https://spideyfoof.tumblr.com/) and let me know if you'd like to see more of this AU!


End file.
